


with your heartbeat next to mine

by tintedglasses



Series: Winterhawk Bingo [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Coming Untouched, Crying, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Hydra mention, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Pet Names, Rape Recovery, Virginity Roleplay, kind of, some anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 18:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/pseuds/tintedglasses
Summary: Clint clears his throat and wills himself to speak. “Hey, I, uh. I want to make this good for you, okay? So, if any of this isn’t right—"Bucky grabs Clint’s wrists, warm skin and cool metal wrapped around the fragile bones, and squeezes them once.“I trust you,” he says, his gaze firm. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t trust you.”Or, Bucky's first time (kind of).





	with your heartbeat next to mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1000_directions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/gifts).

> steph made a post over a month ago with a list of under-used tropes in marvel fanfic (especially those that were popular back in the 1D fandom) and virginity role play stuck out to me because i still remember reading one like four years ago that really left an impact. then, once i saw that no one has ever written a winterhawk virginity role play, i seized the opportunity to christen the tag, if you will. it was definitely challenging to write, but now it's done and i hope you enjoy it! thanks to steph for the idea and to the bad decisions buddies discord for sprinting this with me. 
> 
> un-beta'd. title from "Like a Virgin", because I HAD TO. also, it fits my 'coming untouched' square for winterhawk bingo (yay, my first square—lots of first with this one!)
> 
> please note that this does vaguely reference past sexual abuse at the hands of hydra, if that's something that will trigger you.

Bucky pulls away from their kiss, his lips red and shiny with spit, to ask, “Hey, um. Can we try it tonight?”

Clint is transfixed by the way Bucky’s tongue peeks out from between his lips when he pauses, so it takes a minute for his mind to click back online. Once it does, he sinks back into the couch where he’s underneath Bucky, his spine going loose like lava, a smile sliding slowly across his face.

“Yeah?”

Bucky looks down at his hands where he’s toying with the buttons on Clint’s shirt, then looks back up at Clint from under his eyelashes, his hair falling in his face a little, a perfectly crafted picture of innocence. “Yeah,” he says, voice quiet. 

God, they’ve been throwing around the idea for a few weeks now, but Clint did not know he was going to be so turned on by it. Now that it’s actually happening, though, he can already feel the blood thrumming through his veins. 

He thinks maybe he should feel a little weird about it, but mostly he tries not to think too deeply about it. Bucky did ask for this, after all.

Clint reaches up and tucks the hair behind Bucky’s ear, then cups Bucky’s face in his hand, using his thumb to peel Bucky’s lip out from between his teeth. He waits until Bucky looks at him.

When Bucky does, his eyes are doe-like, wide. Clint can see the trust there and the enormity of the feeling leaves him momentarily breathless. He recovers quickly, though. He can do this right for Bucky. He _will_.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Clint says, finally answering Bucky’s question. “If you want to do it tonight, we can.”

A shy grin breaks across Bucky’s face, shifting Clint’s hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

Clint leans up and kisses Bucky’s grin, unable to help himself. “Let’s go to the bedroom, alright?”

“Oh, okay. Is it—is that how you like it best?” Bucky asks, making his voice sound innocent as he climbs off of Clint’s lap.

Clint stands up and holds onto Bucky’s hand, leading him towards the bedroom. He takes a deep breath as he mulls over what to say, nerves creeping in alongside his arousal. He’s not quite sure how to go about this. 

“For your first time—" his breath catches and Bucky squeezes his hand. Clint clears his throat and tries again, “Since it’s your first time, I want you to be as comfortable as possible and that’s easier on a bed.”

Clint keeps a close eye on Bucky’s reaction, watching for signs that he needs to adjust his approach, so he sees the faint blush that dapples Bucky’s cheekbones as he enters the bedroom and sits on the bed. 

Bouncing on the bed slightly, Bucky says, “Yeah, this is probably better than the couch.”

Taking a moment to try and figure out his next move, Clint stands in the doorway, watching as Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear before glancing up at Clint, quirking an eyebrow at him when he doesn’t make a move towards the bed.

Bucky reaches a hand out to Clint and Clint makes his way over to him. He bypasses Bucky’s hand and crouches down in front of him, bringing both of his hands up to cup Bucky’s face instead. He traces Bucky’s cheekbones with his thumbs as Bucky’s soft grey eyes watch him patiently.

Clint clears his throat and wills himself to speak. “Hey, I, uh. I want to make this good for you, okay? So, if any of this isn’t right—"

Bucky grabs Clint’s wrists, warm skin and cool metal wrapped around the fragile bones, and squeezes them once.

“I trust you,” he says, his gaze firm. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t trust you.”

The unwavering conviction in Bucky’s eyes is enough to settle any of Clint’s remaining nerves, so he takes a deep breath, settling back into his role with the exhale. Bucky must see the shift in his expression because his eyes go soft again, waiting to follow Clint’s lead.

Clint sweeps his thumbs across the apples of Bucky’s cheeks. “I’m going to make this good for you, baby. Whatever you want.”

Bucky looks down, his lashes casting long shadows across his face. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

Looking up at Clint, Bucky shrugs a little, a wry smirk ghosting across his lips. “I’m a little bit nervous and I...I don’t really know what I want. What I’m allowed to want.”

Clint leans in and presses a firm kiss to Bucky’s lips before pulling away to meet Bucky’s gaze again. “You’re allowed to want whatever you want, sweetheart,” he says firmly and waits until Bucky nods. He thinks for a moment and then says, “How about to start, though, you tell me what you’ve done before and we can go from there?”

Bucky breaks eye contact, looking at Clint’s throat instead of his eyes. His mouth opens and closes a few times, like he’s trying to decide what to say. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Clint says, trying to keep his voice soothing despite the way his stomach tenses with anxiety. They’ve talked about doing this, sure, but they didn’t really talk about the specific details of how this scenario would play out. He’s not sure if he’s playing this wrong by asking, if this might be too triggering for Bucky, so he tries to backtrack in case this isn’t what Bucky needs. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s—" Bucky’s eyes trail up, dragging their way up from Clint’s throat to his eyes, tracing every feature in between. He watches Clint and Clint tries to keep his gaze steady, letting Bucky see whatever he needs to see. Eventually, Bucky whispers, “Just kissing. With you. It’s only been you.”

_Shit_. Clint’s mouth gapes slightly at his response, the anxiety fluttering in his stomach now coalescing with the still somewhat unexpected flood of arousal that washes through him. He’s so fucking into this. He didn’t know what Bucky was going to say, how far they were going to take this, but the path Bucky just chose has him suddenly half-hard already, even though they stopped kissing a while ago.

Beneath the lingering anxiety and the growing arousal, a small tendril of shame tries to take root, tries to tell him that this shouldn’t turn him on so much, but he stamps it out, reminding himself that this is okay—that Bucky asked for it. He’s not weird or gross for wanting this, too.

“Is that so, darling? I’m your first for everything?” Clint’s voice is a little choked, even as he tries to maintain a cool demeanor. Sue him, he’s turned on as fuck. And, okay, maybe he’s also a little emotional about the idea of being the only one to ever do any of this with Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky nods, chewing at the inside of his cheek.

Clint moves to rest one hand on Bucky’s knee, using it for leverage as he leans in to kiss Bucky, his other hand tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ear. It won’t stay, but Clint likes doing it anyways. 

Bucky leans his head against Clint’s fingers where they still rest against his hair. “Is—is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Clint says. He watches Bucky closely, wanting to see if Bucky sees how much he means it as he adds, “I love that it’s only been me.”

“Me, too,” Bucky replies, swallowing hard, and Clint can see a sliver of sadness lurking in his expression. “I only want it to be you.”

Clint’s heart clenches in his chest as he registers the longing in Bucky’s voice, how much he really wants this. He leans in to kiss Bucky again, soft as he can. He pulls back just enough to say, “You can have me. Just me.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers, almost too quiet to be heard, as if maybe he hadn’t even meant to say it.

Clint kisses Bucky one more time and rests his head against Bucky’s forehead with his eyes closed, giving themselves a moment to breathe. He figured that this was going to be emotional for them, but he also wants it to be fun, so he tries to give them both the space to get back to that mindset. 

They breathe quietly for a long moment and after the tension has dissipated and neither of them feel quite so tense, Clint pulls back and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, his gaze looking a little nervous, even though his body is loose. Clint pauses, prepared to wait a little longer if Bucky’s not ready yet. But then, Bucky says, “What’s usually the next step after kissing? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do” and Clint realizes the nerves are just part of him playing his part again.

Clint rolls his shoulders and lets the last of his anxiety fade out to a low buzz. Determined to make this right for Bucky, he makes sure he sounds confident when he says, “Why don’t you go ahead and lay back on the bed and I’ll show you.”

Bucky crawls backwards onto the bed, propping himself up against the pillows. His long legs spread out in front of him, his tight jeans highlighting the slope of his thighs in a way that makes Clint’s mouth water. It’s almost certainly purposeful. Toying with the edge of his shirt, Bucky asks, “Should I take this off?”

Eyeing the sliver of skin that peeks out above Bucky’s waistband before dragging his eyes up to his face, Clint says, “If you want to. If you’re ready.” 

Bucky bows his head, watching his fingers tangle in and out of the shirt’s hem. “Used to take my shirt off with the fellas in the barracks all the time,” he mutters, acting like he has to put on a false bravado, even as he glances up at Clint from beneath his eyelashes teasingly. “Not a big deal.”

He pulls his shirt off, revealing miles and miles of smooth torso, his muscles shifting visibly beneath warm skin. He folds his shirt and sets it on the nightstand before settling back against the pillows. Unable to look away from him, Clint takes Bucky in—his expansive chest, his gleaming arm, the almost jarringly delicate curve of his collarbone. It feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“What?” Bucky asks, a faint blush dusting his cheeks when Clint stands frozen for too long.

Clint snaps back into action, pulling his own shirt off quickly, the seams protesting audibly as he tugs it a little too hard, before climbing onto the bed next to him. He reaches a hand out to trace a finger across one of Bucky’s ribs, tracking the way a muscle in his stomach jumps at the touch. He lays his palm flat and runs it horizontally across to the other side of his ribs and then back to the middle before moving it slightly lower to rest on Bucky’s abs, his thumb sweeping across the divot between them.

“You’re beautiful,” Clint says, even though the words make his cheeks burn. They’re not usually like this, but something about this bashful version of Bucky makes Clint want to say it.

“Oh,” Bucky says, almost a gasp, his stomach quivering underneath Clint’s hand as he shivers.

Clint gives him a crooked smile. “The fellas in the barracks ever say that?”

“No,” Bucky says, his gaze deliberate as he meets Clint’s. “Only you.”

Clint’s hand stills and he can feel his face go slack because he can see that Bucky really means that this time. That this really is something only Clint has done.

He leans down and kisses Bucky in the middle of his chest, right over the rise and fall of his heart. He blinks a few times to hide the way his eyes are a little wet before looking up at Bucky. “Well, I guess I should tell you a lot more often then.”

Bucky smile is soft and timid, his blush deepening and spreading down to his collarbones. Clint is captivated by it, wanting to reach out and feel the warmth for himself. But before he can, Bucky‘s face shifts, losing the timidity as he visibly shifts back into his character, “So, after kissing—what do we do?” he asks, and Clint follows his lead and shakes off the moment, too.

Clint feels more in control now, because they did talk a little bit about this part, the physical logistics of it all, when Bucky brought up the idea in the first place. Clint’s not usually one for planning, but even he can admit that it’s a little reassuring to have a plan for this, to know what Bucky is expecting from him.

“I still want to kiss you a little more.” Clint presses a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips. “But then, I’d like to touch you, if that’s okay? Open you up with my fingers and then if you still want to, we can take it further.”

Clint leans over to grab the half-empty lube bottle out of the bedside table drawer, but Bucky’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“Maybe, I could—" Clint notices that the nervousness in Bucky’s voice is real this time and his stomach churns a bit, unsure what’s wrong. He’s pretty sure that that was what Bucky had said he wanted. But instead, Bucky asks, “Could I be on top? Or like not necessarily on top, but could I—be inside you?”

Clint watches Bucky’s face carefully. This isn’t what they had talked about, but it doesn’t necessarily surprise Clint, if he’s being honest. When they talked about it, he had said that he thought bottoming might be too much for Bucky for this, but Bucky had insisted that that was what he wanted. And Clint doesn’t care either way, but now he wonders if this is a sign that Bucky isn’t actually as ready for this whole thing as he thought he was, but is trying to push himself into a compromise to make it happen anyways.

“Please?” Bucky says, his eyes pleading with Clint to understand. “I still want you. I just...I want it like this.”

In the end, it comes down to trust because Clint trusts Bucky to know what he’s ready for and what his limits are. And if this is what he wants, then— “Of course, sweetheart. However you want.”

Bucky grins and Clint can’t help but smile back at him. Sure, he’s going to have to wing it now, but it’s not like winging it isn’t his day job anyways, so he’ll be fine. 

“Okay, so should I touch you, then?” Bucky asks. His voice goes quiet and shy, and he bites down on his lip before adding, “Open you up on _my_ fingers?”

Clint’s dick, which has gone kind of soft at this point, swells as he lets out a small groan. He loves Bucky in every shape, size, and iteration, but he’s really loving the shy version of him in particular at this moment. As much as he wants Bucky to touch him, like, yesterday, though, he tries to keep in mind what they are doing here. 

“Since it’s your first time,” and, fuck, his dick twitches at that. Again, the whispers of shame try to creep up and tell him he shouldn’t find those words so hot, but again he tells himself, _It’s okay. Bucky, asked for this._ “Let’s get our pants off and just kiss some more first, okay? No need to rush. I want to make sure you’re comfortable first.”

“Yeah, okay. I just really want you, is all,” Bucky says and Clint feels his face warm at the sincerity in his voice.

“We’ll get there.”

They peel off their jeans and Clint dumps them on the floor, catching the way Bucky’s mouth twitches a bit at the mess. He doesn’t say anything, but Clint reaches down to grab them anyways, taking a few moments to fold them and place them on the nightstand.

Then, Clint crawls on top of Bucky and kisses him, careful to keep his hips off of Bucky’s for now. He kisses slow but unerringly, pulling Bucky’s bottom lip between his to suck at it before tracing his tongue along the roof of Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky’s hands feel tentative when they touch Clint’s bare hips, but they seem to gain confidence as he traces up the muscles of Clint’s back.

“You doing okay?” Clint says in the space between their mouths as he catches his breath. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and huffs out a breath. “We’ve done this before Clint. I’m not totally new to this, you know.”

Bucky’s words crack the illusion slightly, Clint unable to stop the flood of old memories that flood his mind, the things they have done before. He doesn’t mention them, though, because he knows that’s not what Bucky meant. Instead, he laughs and says, “You’re right, baby. How about we do something new, then? Can I rub against you?”

Bucky looks a little miffed. “We were just doing that in the living room. How is that any new?”

“Well, we had our jeans on out there.” Clint thumbs at the corner of Bucky’s jaw. “It’s different like this.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, his mouth dropping open a little as Clint presses down gently with his thumb. “Okay. I want to try that, then.”

Clint shifts until one of Bucky’s thighs is between his legs and then lowers his hips so that they are resting against the thickest part. He rolls his hips slowly and firmly up the length of Bucky’s thigh, feeling Bucky’s warmth against his hard cock through the thin layers of fabric. He can feel Bucky’s cock against his own thigh where it’s wedged between Bucky’s legs and he presses down against it as he finishes out his thrust.

Bucky lets out a gasp, his fingertips digging into Clint’s back.

Clint leans back in to recapture Bucky’s bottom lip, sucking hard as he rolls his hips again, deliberately pressing against Bucky’s cock again as Bucky’s gasps spills into Clint’s mouth. He pulls back and plants a kiss to the slightly swollen lip before licking it. “Different, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky pants, his hips twitching up towards Clint’s leg. “I’ve never—it’s good.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it,” Clint says, punctuating the sentiment with another roll. 

“Can you rub—can you—us, together?” Bucky stutters out, looking embarrassed.

“You want me to rub our cocks together, baby? Is that what you want?” Clint asks. His dick is throbbing at Bucky’s reluctance to say the word, even though he’s filthy enough to rival Clint most days.

“Mhm,” Bucky hums, the tail end of it going high-pitched as Clint’s shifting makes him push hard against Bucky’s dick for a second.

Clint swings the leg that was between Bucky’s legs around to straddle him properly and lines them up, leaning down on his elbows so that they are touching from chest to groin. He moves in a slow grind, the heads of their cocks bumping and catching against each other, the fabric creating friction between them. It’s such a small thing that they’ve done about a million times now, but like this, it feels brand new.

“Shit,” Clint says, as Bucky moans. “That’s so good.”

Bucky nods frantically and pulls Clint back to him, kissing him hard before his mouth goes slack, panting against Clint’s as Clint rocks their hips together. 

Clint keeps moving, Bucky’s arousal and his own chasing each other in a seemingly unending feedback loop until Clint feels like he’s going to explode, heat itching it’s way up his spine, his lower belly tightening. He stops his hips abruptly. “Baby, baby, we have to stop.”

“Am I doing it wrong?” Bucky pulls back, eyes wide as he gasps for air, but Clint can see that he isn’t really concerned.

He consoles him anyways, keeping up the game. “No, no. It’s right. It’s so right. But I’m gonna come if we don’t stop. And I want you inside me.”

Bucky’s eyes go wider. “O-okay. What do you need me to do then?”

Clint flops onto his back, resisting the urge to touch his dick, not wanting to accidentally come too soon. “I just gotta...breathe for a second. And then you can open me up.”

Bucky props himself up on his elbow, his hair messy and sticking to his neck a little with sweat. “I’ve never done that before. Will you teach me?”

Clint groans and squeezes his eyes shut as his dick gets impossibly harder. Holy fuck, he never would have known that this was a thing for him if Bucky hadn’t asked for it, but it definitely, definitely is.

“Clint?” Bucky asks, sounding concerned for real this time. “Was that okay? Too far?”

Clint opens his eyes to make eye contact with Bucky, seeing the way his expression has sobered a bit. “No, you’re good. Too good. I’m gonna come if you aren’t careful.”

Bucky concern vanishes, his mask slipping back on again. “Oh, okay. Don’t do that.” He drops into his shy voice. “I want your—your cock inside me.”

“Mmm, not helping,” Clint mumbles and Bucky shoots him a quick wink, so quick that Clint isn’t entirely sure it was real. Clint ignores him, taking a few deep breaths until he feels a little calmer again.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” he says, even though he thinks it’s probably still a 50/50 shot that he could come at any moment, but it’s always kind of like that with Bucky, so he’s used to it. He reaches out to pluck the waistband of Bucky’s underwear. “Why don’t you get out of these and I’ll get out of mine.” 

“Wait,” Bucky says as Clint reaches down to his own waistband, so Clint pauses. “I want to take yours off, if that’s okay. I’ve never gotten to do that for a fella before.”

_Deep breathes, Barton. Chill._

“Yeah, sweetheart. Go ahead,” he says. Bucky takes mercy on him and avoids touching his dick as he rolls Clint’s underwear down his legs, but Clint still has to think unsexy thoughts anyways. Bucky kisses both of Clint’s ankles gently once he sets the underwear off to the side. 

“There,” Bucky says, sounding satisfied with himself as he takes off his own underwear and settles back next to Clint. “I mean, I’ve seen a lot of fellas naked, mind you. But never because of me and never this good lookin’.”

“Well, we can mark a few more firsts off the list, then,” Clint says, his heart jumping at the compliment. He picks up the lube and hands it to Bucky.

“How much should I use?” Bucky asks, turning the bottle over in his hands.

“Until you think that it’s enough and then a little more.”

Bucky squirts the lube onto his metal hand and holy fuck, that has Clint squirming. He knows Bucky knows how he feels about that hand, and Bucky’s sly smirk that he’s trying to hide confirms it. He coats the metal until it shines in the light, the black metal looking iridescent. 

“Is that good?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against his fingertips, as if testing the glide.

“Yeah,” Clint grunts. “That’ll do.”

Bucky reaches down without preamble and finds Clint’s hole, making Clint jump a little even though his touch is soft against the rim, barely a whisper as he traces the edges of it. Clint’s rim flutters at the sensation, each graze sending a direct current from the base of his spine to his skull. When his rim closes, it traps the very tip of Bucky’s finger inside. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathes, twisting his finger back and forth, working it deeper. The ridges of the metal along the finger rub against Clint’s insides, creating a delicious friction.

Eyes flicking up to meet Clint’s, Bucky asks, “Does that feel good?”

Bucky looks so nervous and shy, and Clint knows it’s not real, but he can’t help that fierce, protective part of himself that always wants Bucky to feel safe and secure, so he’s quick to reassure him. “Yeah, sweetheart. Feels real good.”

Bucky’s whole finger is inside of Clint now, a slow and steady rhythm. Clint thinks that he must be deliberately avoiding his prostate based on how easily he finds it normally. He’s watching Clint’s expression, waiting for something.

Waiting to be taught.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. And Clint’s not proprietary over Bucky. That’s not it. He knows that Bucky has a long history, much longer than most. He doesn’t begrudge Bucky that. But he loves this, the illusion that he’s the one to show Bucky this, and the idea that no one else has ever or will ever get to do this but him.

And if Bucky wants to be taught, Clint will teach him. “Babe, if you could just move your finger over just a little—"

Bucky slides his finger slightly to the left, nudging against his prostate finally.

“—right there,” Clint gasps. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, furrowing his brow, laying the act on thick now.

“It’s a spot that feels real good,” Clint pants out, fighting not to squirm. “Guess they didn’t teach you that in the forties.”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head with wide-eyed wonder. “Don’t know any fellas who knew about this.”

Clint’s heard stories that Steve has told about his own time back in the forties, so he knows that at least _some_ guys must have known about it, but he doesn’t mention that. “I’ll have to show you sometime.”

“Okay,” Buckys says, grinning at Clint. “I’d like that.”

There isn’t a lot of resistance against Bucky’s movements anymore, so Clint says, “Why don’t you add another finger?”

Bucky slides in two fingers on the next thrust, the metal of his middle finger noticeably cooler than that of the one that has already been inside Clint for a while. The stretch is slightly uncomfortable at first, but Clint relaxes into it quickly, needing more before long. It’s always like this with Bucky, like he can never get enough. 

Bucky isn’t making any move to go any further, so Clint gives him more instructions. “Can you spread them?”

“Like this?” Bucky asks, scissoring his fingers perfectly, twisting them as he pushes in and out, just like Clint likes.

Clint hums in the back of his throat against the burn of the stretch. “Yeah, just like that, babe.”

Bucky watches his fingers slide in and out, and Clint can just imagine the way the metal shines in the light as it sinks in and out of Clint’s hole.

He looks up at Clint, his wide eyes meeting Clint’s hooded ones. “Can I add one more finger? Or is that too many?” 

Clint nods, even as he squirms against Bucky’s fingers. “Yes. Please.”

Bucky watches Clint’s face this time as he pushes in a third finger, keeping them close together on the first few thrusts before spreading them, tugging at Clint’s rim.

Clint’s head tips back and he closes his eyes as he groans, his leg twitching out in a kick. Fuck, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take this before he comes, having been on edge for so long.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, his voice sweet, but his fingers downright wicked as he pumps them in and out of Clint, grazing his prostate each time.

“Yeah,” Clint pants, his fingers clenching around the sheets spastically. “I think I’m ready.”

“Do we...” Bucky pauses with his fingers resting close to Clint’s prostate. He’s using that shy tone again, so Clint looks up at him. “Do we need a condom?”

“It’s up to you, sweetheart,” Clint says, whimpering as Bucky twitches his fingers over to press against Clint’s prostate. His voice is strained as he says, “It’s your first time. Whatever—whatever you want.”

“I think,” Bucky says, stroking firmly against Clint’s prostate now, causing Clint to arch off the bed and forcing him to reach down and squeeze his dick to ward off an orgasm, “I just want to feel you.”

“Then, you’re going to have to stop,” Clint says, his voice edging embarrassingly towards whiny. “Or else I’m gonna come first.”

“Okay, yeah.” Bucky withdraws his fingers and Clint collapses back on the bed, his hole clenching around the loss.

He’s panting as he looks over to see Bucky lubing up his dick. Bucky notices him watching and gives him a shy smile.

“You’ll tell me if I’m not doing it right? You’ll teach me?”

Clint squeezes his dick harder. Fuck, Bucky’s almost being an asshole now, talking like that when Clint’s so close. He knows Bucky can see what the words are doing to him, how much Clint likes this. 

He doesn’t want Bucky to stop, though.

“Yeah, baby. Of course.” He reaches up with his free hand to pull Bucky down into a kiss, biting gently at his bottom lip as he releases him. “Just want this to be good for you.”

“Wanna make it good,” Bucky says, licking the faint indents of Clint’s teeth on his lip.

“If it’s you, it’ll be good. How could it not be?” Clint replies without thinking. 

“You really mean that?” Bucky asks.

Clint thinks that maybe it’s partly Bucky stalling to give Clint more time to regain his composure, but there’s also something in the way he says it that makes Clint thinks that he might actually be asking a little bit, too. And Clint thinks that Bucky knows that Clint loves what they do together, but he’s not sure if he’s ever said it in so many words. It’s not the way that their relationship usually works, but maybe they need a little more of that, and maybe this scenario that already has a sense of vulnerability to it is the perfect way to open that door a bit.

“I really do mean that,” Clint says, cupping Bucky’s face between both of his hands as he meets Bucky’s eyes, hoping Bucky can see how profoundly he does mean it.

Watching Clint for a moment, Bucky seems to be trying to find something to say, but can’t. In the end, he just nods and leans in to press a kiss to Clint’s chin, letting his actions speak for him.

Then, Bucky lines himself up with Clint’s hole, glancing up at him as if he’s checking that he’s still doing it right. It’s endearing. 

“You ready?” Bucky asks, the head of his cock flush against Clint’s skin.

Clint nods. “Yeah, sweetheart. Go ahead.”

Bucky pushes in, gentle, gentle, gentle. The slide of it is slow and aching, spreading Clint even after three of Bucky’s fingers. His stomach tightens as he forgets to breathe, all the air pushed out of him as Bucky slides home. He makes a conscious effort to suck in a breath, forcing his body to relax. They don’t do it this way very often, so Clint’s a little out of practice. 

“Is it good?” Bucky asks, his voice strained and his arms shaking slightly with the effort of keeping still. His brow is furrowed and he looks sincerely nervous, like he doesn’t actually know if this is good—like the two of them together like this could ever be anything short of perfect. 

Clint almost says _It’s like you were made for this,_ but he stops himself. Bucky wasn’t made for this, as much as Hydra tried to make him believe that he was, not in the way that they meant it. This isn’t just another purpose of Bucky’s body, some program downloaded into him like a hard drive. Maybe this used to be a way that people got to mold Bucky to their own desires, but it isn’t that now. Now, this is something that Bucky gets to choose, that Bucky and Clint get to participate in together equally. 

So instead, he just says, “So good, sweetheart. I feel so good. Why don’t you try moving? Make yourself feel good, too.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, biting his bottom lip as he drags his cock out slowly. His eyes flick between Clint’s face and where he’s pulling out of him, like he doesn’t know where to look. When he pushes back in, though, his eyes lock on Clint’s and Clint feels like Bucky is seeing all of him, like every last piece of who Clint is unravelling beneath his gaze. 

“Come here,” Clint says when Bucky’s all the way back in. “Kiss me.”

Bucky leans in and kisses him softly, his lips barely grazing Clint’s. He tilts his head and presses in again, kissing him more firmly this time, and Clint reaches one hand up into Bucky’s hair to encourage him to kiss even deeper. 

They lose themselves in the kiss, Bucky seated deep inside of Clint. When Clint’s lips start to feel a little tingly, he reaches down to touch Bucky’s hip, not necessarily urging him in anyway, but just letting him know that he’s ready.

Bucky breaks the kiss but stays close as he props himself up with his hands again, watching Clint’s face while he sets a slow rhythm—deep, generous strokes that make Clint feel impossibly full. Close enough that his lips brush Clint’s, Bucky breathes, “Still good?” 

Clint closes the distance between them briefly, before whispering back, “You’re perfect.” 

Bucky’s smile at the praise is heartbreakingly sweet and Clint vows to compliment him more often so Bucky can know just how much he means it.

Bucky gradually picks up the pace until he’s thrusting smoothly in and out of Clint, and Clint’s toes are curling into the sheets with the effort it takes to stay still and let Bucky have all of the control, resisting the urge to reach down to fist his own cock. He doesn’t think he’s really going to need to anyways at the rate this is going. 

“Shit,” Clint gasps. “You’re doing so good. You feel so good, babe.”

Bucky’s smile goes melancholy at the edges and he tucks his face down into Clint’s neck, holding him close now as he fucks into him, hitting Clint’s prostate on every other thrust. 

“I’m so glad it’s you,” he whispers into the space behind Clint’s ear and Clint can only just hear it with his aids. He doesn’t know if Bucky means for him to hear it at all. “I don’t want anyone else but you.” 

Clint loops his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, sliding one of his hands into Bucky’s hair to keep him close, their sweat-slicked bodies moving together, pushing Clint closer and closer to the edge. 

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to acknowledge Bucky’s words or not, but he can’t stop himself from saying, “I’m so glad you picked me, sweetheart. I’m so glad to be your first.” 

Bucky’s body shudders at that and he starts moving faster, rolling his hips with purpose now. Clint wishes that he could see Bucky’s face, but Bucky keeps it firmly buried in Clint’s neck, his groans muffled against Clint skin. 

Either way, it’s not long before Clint feels the nerves in his core bunching up and tangling, every muscle in his body going tight as Bucky’s thrusts bump up right against the edge of rough. 

“Fuck, babe,” he pants, clutching at Bucky’s hair as Bucky drives into him, his cock twitching against his stomach as Bucky keeps hitting his prostate. Bucky reaches down and twists one of Clint’s nipples, tugging it as he thrusts the hardest he has all night. 

It’s the final push that Clint needs to push him over the edge, his muscles seizing up and then relaxing as he comes. Bucky thrusts a few more times and then he’s coming, too, a short whine escaping from his throat as he does. 

He collapses on top of Clint, both of them breathing heavy. Clint focuses on slowing down the rhythm of his breaths, which is a little difficult with Bucky still on top of him. He doesn’t want Bucky to move, though, especially with the way Bucky is trembling. 

At first, he thinks Bucky’s shaking is just the post-orgasm adrenaline wearing off, but after a few moments, Clint registers that it’s more than that, the confirmation coming as he feels tears drip into his chest and hears a choked off sob leave Bucky’s throat.

For a split-second, Clint thinks that maybe he got this all wrong and that he’s somehow hurt Bucky, but the thought doesn’t last. He trusts Bucky to tell him when something is bad, so he doesn’t think it’s anything like that.

Despite wanting to ask what’s wrong, he just pets Bucky’s hair and gives him time to collect himself. He knows Bucky will talk when he’s ready.

Clint’s normally sleepy after he comes, but he doesn’t feel any of that now. Bucky needs him to be alert and present, and so he is. He waits Bucky out, his heart breaking at the way that Bucky tries to muffle the sound of his cries. Eventually, the tears slow and then stop, Bucky’s breathing back to normal at last. 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers from where his face is still lying against Clint’s chest.

Clint knows that the charade is over now and he’s a little sad to see it go. He didn’t know originally if he would be able to do this because it had felt at first like he was taking claim of Bucky’s body in some way, which made him feel sick to his stomach. And even when Bucky reassured him that it wasn’t like that, he couldn’t help thinking that it was somehow wrong to be so fixated on being Bucky’s first, like maybe subconsciously Bucky would think that he somehow thought that Bucky was less than or tainted or whatever. 

But he sees what Bucky meant now, what he was so adamant about when they had discussed it—that they can’t ever undo or erase what Hydra did to Bucky or how little of a choice he had in it, but they could control this. This was Bucky choosing something for himself, making a claim over his own body through Clint.

And maybe Clint isn’t the only person who’s ever touched Bucky, but he’s the only one who’s ever touched him like this. He’s the only one that’s ever loved him, the only one who’s ever had the privilege of being loved by him. It’s not something that is his to take, but it is something that Bucky has freely given to him and Clint doesn’t take that for granted for a single second. 

“Hey,” Clint says, nudging Bucky’s face up and wiping his tears off with his thumbs.

Bucky closes his eyes, “I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh, don’t be,” Clint stops him. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say that I love you.”

Bucky ducks his head down, eyes still closed, and kisses Clint’s chest before resting his forehead against Clint’s collarbone. 

“It’s true,” Clint says, stroking his hair. “I love you, exactly as you are.”

Bucky takes a few deep breaths and then shifts his way up Clint’s body until his face is resting against Clint’s neck, his favorite hiding spot.

“I know it wasn’t real,” he says. “I know I’m never going to be able to start over like that, but for a minute, I almost forgot and I just...I want that so badly.”

Clint doesn’t really know what to say to that—how to take away Bucky’s pain. He goes with, “I wish that so many things had gone differently for you. I would change it all for you if I could,” and it feels inadequate, but it’s true. 

He knows that some people might say that the unbearable trauma that Bucky went through shaped him into who he is now, but Clint thinks that’s bullshit. Bucky is kind and caring and gentle, and absolutely zero percent of that has anything to do with what Hydra did to him.

“I know it wasn’t real,” Bucky repeats, quiet enough that Clint has to strain to hear him. “So is it dumb if it made me feel better anyways?”

Clint squeezes him tight, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. “Of course not. I’m just sorry that you’re sad now.”

“No, it’s—I’m glad we did it,” he says, tilting his head a little so he can breathe more easily against Clint’s neck. “I just need to...grieve a little, I think. For what I lost. I haven’t—Dr. Cho says I haven’t been doing enough of that.”

Clint doesn’t put much stock into virginity as a concept, and he doesn’t think Bucky really does in general either, but the way Bucky’s was taken from him is sure to leave a mark. He can imagine, too, that this isn’t just about his virginity. They took that from him at the same time as they stripped him of so many other things—his arm, his memories, his identity—that they are undoubtedly connected in his mind. To grieve one is to grieve them all. 

“Whatever you need,” Clint says, rubbing circles into Bucky’s shoulder blades with his thumbs, hoping that it gives him some comfort. “You need to cry, you go right ahead.”

Bucky shakes his head and then props himself up with his forearms on Clint’s chest causing Clint’s hands slide down to rest on his hips. The metal of Bucky’s arm digs into Clint’s chest a little uncomfortably, but Clint doesn’t say anything.

Bucky’s eyes are still wet from his tears, his cheeks still shiny from where Clint smeared them earlier. His hair is mussed from Clint’s fingers and his face is flushed. He looks beautiful.

“I love you, too, you know,” he says, almost somber in it’s sincerity.

Clint nods, “I know.”

Bucky watches him for a long moment before he leans down to brush a kiss against Clint’s lips. When he pulls back, he exhales deeply and Clint can feel the shift in his demeanor like it’s palpable as he compartmentalizes his memories, swiping the last of the tears from his face. They’ll talk about this more later, or Bucky will talk to Dr. Cho about it, but for now, the moment has passed. 

Sure enough, when Bucky looks down at Clint again, a small grin plays at his mouth. “So, uh, are you and love ‘em and leave ‘em type, Barton? What should I expect after a night with you?”

Clint laughs softly as he rolls them onto their sides, grimacing at the sudden reminder of how gross they are as their bodies slide and stick against each other. “You know what to expect, you dork. Me, wrapped around you like an octopus all night.”

“Can we clean up first, though? You know I hate being sticky like this,” Bucky asks.

Clint groans, the post-orgasm sleepiness finally hitting him now that he knows that Bucky is done processing for tonight. “Only if you go get the washcloth.”

“You’re impossible, Barton,” Bucky rolls his eyes fondly as he gets up and heads to the en suite.

“Hey, I folded the pants,” Clint calls out after him.

“I know, I saw that,” Bucky says, leaning in the doorway with the washcloth dangling from his hand. The light from the bathroom makes him look like he’s glowing. “Thank you for doing that. I know you don’t really think of those things, but I appreciate it.”

“I’ll probably do anything for you,” Clint shrugs and he means it. Anything that Bucky needs, Clint wants to give it to him.

Bucky strides over and kisses Clint hard. When he pulls back, his smile is soft. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Clint says earnestly. Then he flops his arms open. “Now clean me up so I can cuddle you”

Bucky laughs. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

He cleans them both up and tosses the washcloth into the hamper. Then he crawls into bed and reaches up to gently remove Clint’s ears, setting them on the bedside table and turning off the lamp.

In the dark, he reaches out and pulls Clint to him, and Clint wraps his arms around Bucky tight, pressing one last kiss to the side of Bucky’s head. Then, he closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! [tumblr post.](https://tintedglasses.tumblr.com/post/187064936604/with-your-heartbeat-next-to-mine-by-tintedglasses)


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